Casebook

An introduction

Surely you don’t believe that I actually sleep here?

This dank piece of crap was out of sight to most. Numerous people that had fallen for the sound of their own voices had been frogmarched here down the years and invited to accept the alternative. Not everyone agreed. Those were probably still around… somewhere. Maybe that was where the stench came from. It hung around there forever and a day, a stark reminder of reputation. Locals dubbed this place Revenge Alley – and with good reason.

Earlier today, it was my turn to grace this dingy dump. The thug that clamped a stale palm across my mouth put the other around my waist. I had no idea who this moron was or why he targeted me. He was nearly twice my size and packed a mean wallop, ten times the excess of mine. I found that out the hard way. My midriff still bore the impact crater that was left there; my ribs calling out for a box to go in. It could well be that when he tried to transform my jaw into a makeshift metronome, the clanging in my ears drowned out anything he said; I don’t remember a single word being spoken. My mouth was the only one that moved… and how did it move!

I only managed to keep my eyes open at the third attempt. The fact that the Sun had followed the thug’s lead and disappeared meant that I had lain there for hours. Lunch had only just been digested when I was taken on this detour. It also meant that dad was out pacing the streets again. I could almost picture him now, carrying my tainted photo to the four corners of the city. If he found my Toyota Yaris where I left it, then the lecture would extend into days.

I’ve been a private investigator now for going on seven years and had never come across anyone even remotely similar to this man. The violence was nothing new of course; god only knows how many times this clock of mine has been taken out and given a decent cleaning. Some of the previous times, it sparkled brand new.

The several futile efforts to stand upright would have amused someone if that someone was brave enough to remain here. My jeans looked in need of several rinse cycles; chances of having to borrow more money to dry clean my leather jacket were high. That was all I needed. I also knew I’d likely spend most of the night huddled beneath my shower. Even that might be called into question in the morning.

All the while I shuffled back to civilisation, one poser hit me harder and more frequently than the toe-rag that started all this: why? Why did you snatch me off the street? Why bring me to this shit-hole? And why did you thump me? That was where the currents in my head navigated to. The life jacket of reason cut through the maelstrom with a single, definitive message: Jesus Christ woman! You’re the bloody detective! Figure it out!


Enter Dawn

I must have been the sight for sore eyes. The peroxide hair I sported so distinctly lampooned a hundred other colours. At least of which threatened to make me gag; only one did however. A few hundred yards further back down there rested the most spectacular of technicolour yawns. That really helped my poor ribs(!) Equilibrium groaned under the effort too, like swaying beneath a ferocious gale. The arrival at my car was greeted by an audience barely nudging into double figures. Most all ignored my distress – shoving it aside with a probable she’ll be ok. A lone spinster made an approach worthy of the name, the characteristic Are you alright, dearie? dangling from the bottom lip like dribble.

What was I supposed to say? I wasn’t ok; not at all. Meltdown showed little to no sign of slowing down and my jaw still demanded a spirit level. It was safe to say I have looked better. Liam forever told me as much. Could I pass it off as a simple mugging? It probably could cope with the plausibility of belief. The only potential fly in that ointment was the absence of anything worth taking. I didn’t have my phone or bag on me at the time; both jockeyed for the passenger seat. Car keys reminded me of their presence by intermittently digging into my thigh.

“I was mugged. I tried to fight him off, but he punched me in the stomach.” Extra care was required now. Making the account drag out was a way to betray he belief in it. I got lucky this time. “My friend is a registered nurse. I’ll be fine. Thanks.”

My helper happily toddled off, no doubt to inform someone about that nice young woman who got mugged earlier today. Pride would keep that going for a day or ten. I had to ease down onto the car seat before hitting my first speed dial. Dawn was the obvious choice to phone. Dad was usually the last man on earth to find out there was someone else better than me; Liam would bring me a year’s supply of cotton wool and insist on using it. The ringtone only aired once.

“Dawn, it’s me. I need your help.”

And there she goes. Another tangent that reduced the need for cotton buds. Dawn was worse than me when she hit full flow; and that was saying something. Her bedside manner was impeccable generally, but wasn’t tested as much as it was whenever I monopolised it. I got my word in more promptly than the last half a dozen times.

“Look, look, look, look. Just give me a… I didn’t piss anyone off! I don’t know who… Alright. I appreciate it… I said I did!”


****************************


Dawn Jalloh was the best friend anyone could attain to have. She stood there outside her house impatiently tapping a random rhythm on the kerb. Both arms were folded in that maternal style not even her own child ever wanted to see. Her skin blended well into the night and only the whites of her eyes or bared teeth gave away her presence. The scowl disappeared the instant I hit the brakes. The isosceles angle I stopped at didn’t represent my best attempt to park the car. Curiously, not my worst either.

Hinges resisted Dawn’s desire remarkably well. I half expected the door to end up skewered to that tree nobody liked. Dawn offering exponentially lashings of medical care was something of a godsend. Not just now, but anytime I wanted to keep my beatings shrouded. A hundred black eyes, split lips and/or bloodied noses have come here first. My own personal physician, as she dubbed herself, was a marvel as ever. Transport from the car seat to armchair was textbook. Marlo was Dawn’s hyperactive get up and gone toddler. The figure of eight between her mother’s stance wasn’t so grand anymore, but she never tired of it. Dawn took one flailing arm long before she came anywhere close to me.

“Your Auntie Sam has just arrived; she’s not feeling very well. Silly Auntie went and got herself a tummy ache and can’t play horsies with you today. Be a good girl and stay off her lap. Ok?”

The whirling dervish finally began to run low on adrenalin half an hour later. Maelstrom of noise added a few extra minutes of whirlwind action. Where do they get it all from? Marlo showed commendable restraint up until now, but could no longer abide by mum’s word. That law simply had to be broken. Assisting Marlo to clamber up the side of the armchair made me an accessory. Marlo copied my ‘come get us!’ expression perfectly.

“Come on you, time for bed!”

There always was time for one of Sammie Jo’s speeches. It often served as a highlight for the youngster, a valuable lesson that really should be adhered to but seldom was it done. “Mummy always knows what’s best. You make her so proud, do you know that? One day, when you’re all grown up, big and strong, you can come up to her and let her know: I don’t get tummy aches!”

Dawn was only out of the living room for a minute or so. Either Marlo was utterly worn out or it was someone else’s turn to do the honours. Dawn had a dishcloth in one hand bulging with ice cubes upon her return; its purpose was obvious and not at all enticing. She also wore that look; the one that insisted the truth would be extracted from me or else. I started with a deep sigh,


“Dawnie: I swear on my mama’s grave, I dunno who this guy was! I’ve never seen him before today! I still have no idea who he is. He didn’t say a word as he poleaxed me. I do know this though… he was there strictly for me.”

“Why do you think that?”

My shoulders lurched and peaked quicker than a hiccup. I knew I was right but didn’t translate very well. “When he grabbed me, there were more viable mugging targets around. I didn’t have anything of value on me. That wasn’t what he wanted. He never… you know… either. The can only be one reason for his attack; and that son of a bitch put me down for hours. I dunno the ‘why’, but I’m gonna find out.”

“I see.” Dawn was usually one of the most charismatic and vociferous people I knew. She had a colloquial nickname, The Mouth, and with good reason. At the moment, she was just a pale imitation of the woman that I grew up with. “What if we turned it around? Suppose you never see him before, but he’d seen you. Why were you there in the first place?”

“I had a meet. Bob sent me an email last night…“ The penny narrowly missed when it dropped. Bob wasn’t that kind of a man, at least not to me. Sure, he had a knack for fixing things and making certain arrangements. Everyone went to him when the end held priority over the means. “Hang on a minute! You reckon I was lured there just so that bastard could thump me?”

Dawn didn’t have to answer that and she knew it. I found it difficult to believe that Bob would subject me to that. Our relationship, if that’s what it actually was, was based on preservation; Bob was only too aware what would happen if he ever tried something on with me. I made that abundantly clear sometime during out first encounter.

A shake of the head knew no bounds. “No! He’s smarter than that Dawnie. I cant believe for one moment that he’d sell me out like that. It isn’t as if someone wanted… “

Dawn carefully followed my train of thought, picking up where I left off. She would make a pretty good detective at times. “To kill you? Maybe that was the idea. You know this bloke better than me: is it possible? Maybe whoever attacked you was interrupted or even seen. Its something to think about; but right now, you are going to rest. I will put your car in our garage before someone sees it. Tomorrow, you’re going back to that matchbox you call an office and check your files. I’m on earlies so I cant get there much before lunchtime.”

That was Dawn in a nutshell. She wasn’t just my best friend; she was like an older sister. No matter what would happen, she would only be angry at the cause for a few minutes at most; then it was protect little sister. At times like this, she was easily the closest thing I would ever have to a real mother.

Thoughts such as those often translated into speech. “What would I do without you?”

Dawn just shrugged as she hovered inside the open door. Anxiety for protection perspired out of her. If history was to be useful as a judge, then any physicality done to me was bound to leave her seething. I might have been the one changing from black to blue via purple, but Dawn often felt the most pain.

“That nice cushy job in admin!”

Dawn left me to my own devices. She lingered just long enough to catch my silent jocular reply. Fuck you!